21 Days of Thunderstorms (Hiatus)
by MoonLightSkies16
Summary: "If I had only listened to my spider-sense, those people would be alive. They had families they could go home to... But I killed them" The rain banged hard on his window as he thought of what could've been a good day. WARNING: Depression, guilt, self-harm, major details of injuries, and panic attacks are mentioned in my story, you've been warned. (Author-san plans to rewrite this)
1. Storms and Blades

**Hey guys! This is an IronDad, SpiderSon story and Aunt May is included. (takes place somewhere in between Homecoming and Infinity War)**

**WARNING: Depression, guilt, Self-harm, major details of injuries, and panic attacks are mentioned in this story so if you are somehow triggered by any of those things or just don't like those things then please go to another story.**

**~Enjoy~**

* * *

_Day_ 1:_ April 28, 2017._

Guilt.

That was all Peter felt.

The only thing that snapped him back to reality was the thunderstorm passing over New York tonight. But even the loud crackles of thunder brought back memories.

Horrid memories.

Memories of a night that he wished never existed.

A night that was so recent, that the smell of burning flesh was still lingering somewhere in his nostrils. A smell he won't be able to get rid of for a long time.

He could've stopped the bomb if he only listened to his spider-sense, instead of ignoring it. Even if that was a mistake that could not be undone, it didn't make him feel any better.

In fact, it made him feel worse.

'_Those people had homes to go home to. Families to go back to. And it's my fault their families will never see them again. Because I killed them. I didn't stop that bomb. I didn't listen to my spider-sense. All 5 of them would still be alive right now if it weren't for me.' _Peter thought as he looked out the window of his room.

Rain hitting the glass pane was making a sound that was soothing for his over active and worried senses. The thunder drummed loud in the sky, just like the night those people died. Lighting strikes sprinkled here and there over New York. Causing flashes of lavender purple to emerge from the gray and black night sky.

Peter hadn't felt this way in a while. The only time he remembered feeling this much pain and guilt was when his uncle Ben died in his arms.

The physical pain he felt was being overwritten by the weight of guilt still heavy in his chest. Though he had barely made it back to his apartment in Queens because of his injuries.

He had 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns running all the way from his left side to his back, making it hard to lay comfortably. scratches and cuts were peppered on his body and deep cuts were on this stomach, arms and legs. The thick, crimson, liquid known as blood was seeping through the bandages he wrapped his body with earlier in the bathroom.

He was pretty sure he had a concussion as well.

Not like he was paying attention to the pain his body was in anyway since they would all be gone before the week was up because of his healing factor.

The pain he was feeling wasn't physical though. His heart ached because he didn't save those people. The people he swore to protect in order to make sure their families never felt the pain of losing a loved one like he did over 1 year ago.

The feeling of hopelessness, sorrow and grief was something he wasn't a stranger too. And keeping people safe so that they never feel that pain was the reason he became the crime-fighting, vigilante known as Spider-man.

He felt like a failure. He felt like he needed to teach himself a lesson. He needed to discipline himself for his foolish actions. He needed a razor.

Peter quickly got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The rain was still hitting the windows hard and the thunder was still roaring in the sky loudly.

Peter grabbed a razor blade and held it up to his arm. He quickly slid the razor across his arm. He looked down at the some-what deep cut, blood began to leak out the sides of the cut and he smiled.

The pain was nice. The blood leaking from his cut was soothing. This is what he deserved. What's the harm in doing it again. It wasn't bad at all.

Peter held the razor back up to a different spot on his forearm and sliced it against his skin. Grinning as he watched blood spill out of his new, deeper cut.

He decided on a new way to do things.

If 1 person died on his watch, then he got 2 cuts on his arms and 3 on his legs.

If 5 people died on his watch, then he got 5 cuts on both arms and 8 on his legs.

If 10 people or more died on his watch, then he got 10 cuts on his arms and 11 on his legs.

* * *

After a few more cuts on his arms and legs, he washed the razor clean of his blood, put it back to where it was originally placed and put a few bandages on his cuts so that they wouldn't through or else Aunt May would find out.

_'This is the punishment I deserve for killing those people. Those people died on my watch and I was too stupid to listen to my spider-sense' _Peter thought as he turned off the bathroom light and walked quietly back to his room and the his door.

The thunderstorm softened his tense and uneasy body as he lay on his bed looking out his window. He began to fall into a deep sleep. Something his healing factor does to him whenever he is hurt badly. Thank goodness it was the weekend.

The guilt that Peter felt didn't subside even when he fell asleep, because all he could dream about was the screams of the people and the flames surrounding the alleyway.

The storm outside eased his mind so that he could sleep.

What a way to end the day.


	2. Too Stressful

****Hey guys!****

* * *

__Day 2: April 29, 2017.__

Saturday.

The best day of the week other than Friday.

But this Saturday was nothing if not gruesome for Peter.

The guilt still weighed heavily on his chest, making it hard to breathe sometimes. He felt numb all over. Completely engulfed in the pain of that night. He wanted to feel emotions.

He wanted to feel happiness.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel. Only see. He couldn't hear. Only touch. He felt... lost. For the first time in his life since Uncle Ben died, he felt empty.

Hopeless.

Sad.

Guilty.

But he hid it behind fake smiles and fake laughter. It was working, but he had a feeling that May was getting suspicious. He hadn't told anyone about it, but today he was going to the compound to work with Mr. Stark on some projects. He just hoped his depression and guilt was hidden well enough to fool even Tony Stark.

* * *

Okay, so the ride Happy gave him wasn't all bad but it's not like he wasn't still in pain both mentally and physically from that terrible night.

When Peter arrived at the avengers compound, he first made his way inside and then into to the elevator.

"Hello, Mr. Parker. Which floor would you like to go to?" The AI named FRIDAY asked Peter.

"Floor 27 please. And you can call me Peter, FRIDAY." Peter answered the AI.

The short ride in the elevator was quiet, but not an awkward quiet. More of a... soothing quiet.

It helped Peter relax his nerves of making his depression clear to Mr. Stark. Peter wouldn't be telling anybody what happened for a while. Or maybe they would have to beat it out of him. Peter didn't know, but there was one thing he knew. He could keep a secret.

No matter how major the secret is. He can keep it for a long time. Mr. Stark still doesn't know about the Vulture accident when the building collapsed on top of him. That incident made Peter claustrophobic. He can't stay in a small room for long without feeling like the walls are closing in and the ceiling is collapsing. Just thinking about what happened made Peter's heart race.

The elevator sounded a cheerful '__ding'__ as the metal doors slid open to reveal a lab with floor-to-ceiling windows on the back of the wall. There was tech all around the place and a desk on the left side of the very large room was covered with papers as blue holograms floated above it.

Most likely new machinery prototypes.

Behind the holograms sitting in a chair was a man with a long sleeved black shirt with another short sleeved black T-shirt over it. His hair was a dark brown and he rubbed his pale hand over his face.

"Hi, Mr. Stark." Peter says to the man named Tony Stark.

"Hey, Pete." Tony greeted. " come here, I need a little help with this project."

"Okay." Peter says. He dropped his black duffel bag on the floor next to the elevator. He made his way over to Mr. Stark and sat down on the spare chair next to him.

"What's this?" Peter asked looking at the Iron suit on the blue hologram.

"Improvements I'm making on my Iron man suit." Tony explained.

"Cool. What do you need help with?"

"Well, you see this... "

Peter's mind went blank. He was still staring at the screen but it's like he couldn't hear anything Mr. Stark was saying. He started to feel numb and it felt like he wasn't even inside his body anymore.

"Peter. Are you okay?" Tony asks turning to face Peter who is still looking at the hologram.

Peter turns to Tony soon realizing he is being asked a question. He quickly snaps out of his trans and answers Mr. Stark.

"Yeah yeah, I'm uh, I'm good." Peter replies. He can see that Tony isn't fully convinced yet, but Mr. Stark leaves it alone for now.

* * *

The day went by so slowly that Peter thought time froze a few times. Working on the project with his mentor, Tony Stark, made Peter start to get stressed. He decided to go on patrol as Spider-man for a while to take his mind off of things.

That was the stupidest idea he ever had.

Not only did Peter's attitude change, but the way he controlled his strength was altered too. He had heard a cry for help in an alleyway in the middle of two apartment buildings.

Peter swung down to where he heard the pleas and saw 3 men about to rape a young women. She was maybe in her late-teens or early-twenties and the men were all well over 30 years old.

Peter landed in the shaded part of the alley, the dark night sky began to turn grey as a thunderstorm began to roll in above New York.

The rapists turned around and looked at the shaded area of the alley, trying to find watch caused the noice of Peter jumping down from the top of the building.

The young woman took this chance and began running out of the alley. She was gone by the time the men looked behind them.

"Is that really how you jerks treat a lady?" Peter asked with a cold tone in his humorous sentence.

"Where are you? Show your-self!" One of the men demanded.

Peter then stepped out of the shadows, his red and blue spider-man suit stood out in the dark alley.

"How we talk less, fight more?" Peter asked getting into his fighting stance.

"How about we show this spider-twerp who's boss, boys?" The largest man said.

They hadn't even started fighting yet, but something in Peter snapped. The anger he was feeling let out something that he had been hiding ever since Uncle Ben died.

The monster was out to play.


	3. Why Did I Do That (short chapter)

Numbness.

Peter didn't know what happened.

Because he felt numb right now.

He couldn't think straight.

Couldn't see straight.

He wasn't even sure if he was in control of his body anymore.

He was moving. Fighting. But he was fighting mindlessly.

Peter's body was doing what ever it pleased.

He watched through his eyes what he did to the rapists, though his eyes weren't focused.

When Peter snapped out of the trans, what he saw was going to haunt him just like the other night.

He saw 3 bloody bodies on the wet ground of the alleyway. They were motionless. Not even breathing.

Peter couldn't hear their heart beats like he usually could due to his enhanced hearing.

His legs felt like jelly and he fell to his knees, not caring about the puddle he just landed in.

The thunderstorm covering seemed to understand his emotions because the moment he hit the ground a flash of lighting and a loud thunder clap erupted out of the sky.

Rain started pouring heavily over Peter. But he didn't care.

He just KILLED these men.

With.

His.

Bare.

Hands.

Peter felt a wave of anger and sadness wash over him like a tsunami. Peter began bawling his eyes out. A river of tears begin flowing down his cheeks as he pulls his Spider-man mask off of his sweaty face.

He looked at the mask that was in his hand. He saw blood splattered all over the chin and forehead. The spider human hybrid then looked at the limp, cold bodies that lay in front of him.

Blood was leaking from their mouths and noses. Cuts, gashes and bruises were showcased all over their lifeless beings.

What came over him? Why did he do that? Why couldn't he feel anything? Why couldn't he control anything?

He needed his one and only coping mechanism that has been working so far.

He needed to see his blood.

He needed something sharp.

He needed to be punished.

He needed to take this weight off that was weighing heavy on his chest.

He needed a blade.

Peter quickly scrambled to his feet and headed back to his apartment.

Aunt May has a night shift at the hospital she works at tonight, so she won't be home.

Peter stumbled in through his bedroom window that he always left unlocked.

He made his way to the bathroom not even bothering to close the wooden bathroom door. He grabbed a sharp blade and without hesitation began to cut.

The warmth of his blood soothed Peter as it rolled down his forearm. He moved onto his legs and cut his thighs. big and small cuts peppered on his skin, all at different stages of being healed.

Peter became frustrated because the cuts he gave himself the night before had healed already. All that was left were scars. '__Stupid healing factor!'__ Peter thought as the blade glided across his skin a few more times.

* * *

Once Peter was done cutting him-self, he washed the blade off and placed it back in the razor container he found it in.

Now that he got his proper punishment for killing those people, maybe he could fall asleep.

Peter didn't even try to wrap bandages on his cuts. He changed out of his spider suit and into his pajamas.

He crawled into his bed, pulling his star-wars comforter over his body.

Once again, he fell into a deep sleep as he listened to the thunder and rain outside.

What. A. Day.


	4. Author's note yAYyyY!

**Sorry guys. I know you were expecting the 4th chapter in place of my note but just read this please because it will make you understand things a bit more clearly.**

**(lizamarri: the stuff about the depression was actually correct, so kudos to you. _Experience gives knowledge :(_**

**Yeah, I have had depression before. IT SUCKED! But I don't have it nearly as bad as it was before. **

**Ok, enough about me. Let me explain the story.**

**Peter (he's 15 turning 16 soon) is suffering from depression since he failed to save 5 people from a bomb in a ware house. His spider-sense warned him of the explosion but he ignored the warning, thinking it was a false alarm. It clearly wasn't.**


	5. Irritated

_Day 3: April 30, 2017._

Isolation.

That's all Peter wants.

To be alone.

To not be bothered.

To not have to answer to anyone.

To have complete silence.

But his good old 'Parker luck' doesn't work that way.

Ned's been bothering him all weekend with endless texts. Peter hasn't talked to Ned since 'that' night.

Peter didn't care enough to text him back that he was 'okay'.

Peter just wanted to listen to the endless storm over New York this morning. Just wanted peace. Just wanted silence.

But Peter started getting really irritated. He didn't just hear his phone buzzing from Ned texting him non-stop. He could also hear the cars honking on the busy streets below his apartment.

He heard everyones heartbeats far away and nearby. He could hear what they were saying. He could hear peoples foot steps. He could hear people scrambling to get out the rain and he could hear their breathing.

It didn't matter to his enhanced hearing that he was 10 stories up.

Peter was going to go crazy if the noise didn't stop soon.

The storm didn't do much to ease him but the rain did manage to make him fall asleep even with the migraine that pounded against his skull every time his heart beats.

* * *

Peter woke up 2 hours later.

May wasn't home because she has a double-shift at the hospital she works at. Peter was a little relieved by that. He didn't feel like hearing May singing when he had this pounding still headache.

Peter needed relief from his headache so he did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed a razor.

The metal slid across his exposed skin a few times before Peter's headache calmed down. He felt lightheaded, most likely from the blood loss.

Peter did his usual 'after cuts clean-up' routine and went back to his bedroom. Forearms wrapped in white bandages. The red, warm blood slowly seeping through them.

This was Peter's coping mechanism. If life threw a problem his way, he would just grab a razor. It made him feel good. Now cutting himself wasn't completely for punishment, it was nice to him.

Feeling the thick, crimson liquid ooze out of his cuts and onto the bathroom floor. The way the cold blade met his warm skin. The pressure from the bandages after wrapping his wounds. It felt amazing. To Peter it felt like all his problems in life just washed away for a few seconds. But just a few seconds of relief was enough for Peter to try and calm down his senses that are going haywire.

Peter's phone started ringing but he ignored it thinking that it was Ned trying to call him. It stopped ringing for a second and then it started ringing again.

Wow, Ned must really be desperate to talk to him.

The ringing stopped and then rang for the third time. Peter got annoyed and picked up his phone. Mr. Stark was calling him. What would he need Peter for.

Peter answered and put the phone up to his ear.

_"Hey, kid. Answer your phone the next time I call you." _Mr. Stark said through the phone.

_"Anyway, I got a mission for ya. It's an __Avengers mission. Some idiot AIM agents wanted to make an appearance in Brooklyn. They are said to be armed so we need you to unarm them with those webs of yours. You up for it?" _Mr. Stark explained.

"Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'll meet you at the tower in a few minutes." Peter replied, trying to make his voice sound enthusiastic.

_"See ya, kid."_ Before Peter could respond Mr. Stark hung up.

Peter sighed and reached for his suit. Peter stepping into it and slid the mask over his face.

"Hello, Peter." Karen's voice sounded welcoming. But Peter was irritated by it.

"Hey, Karen. Give me the fastest route to the Avengers Tower." Peter said to her.

"Calculating now." Karen said.

Peter followed the directions given to him by Karen and was at the Tower in just a few minutes.

"Hey, guys!" Peter yelled.

"Hey, kid." Mr. Stark said back.

There was a few more 'Hi's before they made their way to Brooklyn.


	6. Why Should I Care?

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I got really busy, anyway, ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!**

* * *

_Day 3: April 30, 2017._

Frustrated.

Yeah, Peter was really frustrated.

He didn't want to go on a mission at all right now.

Normally he would be really giddy and firing all sorts of questions at Mr. Stark.

But, the teenager just didn't feel like he thought he should.

He felt empty. He didn't know why.

* * *

The ride on the Avengers quinjet was smooth and it only took a few minutes to get to Brooklyn. Peter just wanted to get out there, kick some butt, and get out as quickly as possible. He didn't want to be there. But he needed to keep up his usual 'excited, bubbly, curious teenage boy' image so that Mr. Stark wouldn't get suspicious.

Mr. Stark handed Peter as comm to put in his ear so that he could keep in touch with him throughout the whole mission.

Nobody said anything.

Well, not to Peter.

He couldn't hear anything, but mouths were moving.

Peter hadn't felt so out-of-body in his whole life. It felt like he was watching from outside his body..

Steve Rogers said something to him, he didn't know what but his body just started moving without permission.

Everything was happening so fast that he didn't know he was out the jet until he was on the ground fighting AIM agents with The Avengers

The teen's dissociative state was gone and now, he could hear the team shouting warnings, commands, and sassy remarks back and forth through the comm link in his ear.

"Sam, on your left!" Cap shouts.

Falcon whorls around and quickly shoots the AIM agents that were pointing their (probably) laser guns at him.

"Thanks, Cap!"

Peter's Spidey-sense goes off and he whips around to find an AIM agent about to shoot Tony behind his back with one of the alien Chitauri weapons.

The agent lines up his shot right where his heart would be if he were facing forward. Peter barely has time to think, so he does the one thing that comes to mind.

Peter sprints faster than he's ever run before and doesn't hold back _any_ of his strength when he reaches the agent and punches him in the chest.

There's a sicking _CRACK!_ from the man's ribs and sternum that's now ringing through his ears.

He bends down and presses his index finger and middle finger on the agent's neck, checking for any existing pulse.

There is none.

Peter's muscles stiffen and his stomach churns. God, he feels sick. He just killed that man. It didn't matter who's team he was on. Peter wasn't supposed to kill! He was strictly a non-lethal, street-level hero.

Now he's a murderer. This wasn't like the other time he killed those guys in the alleyway. He didn't have control over what his body did when he did that. But this time, he had full control, and he killed him without even hesitating Sure, the man wasn't innocent. But, that didn't mean he had to die! _No, he did deserve to die! He almost killed the person who you looked up to. Who you saw as a mentor, a teacher, a friend, a father-figure._

He gives in a runs over to a dark corner in the warehouse and vomits. Stomach acid burns his throat and his eyes sting because of the salty tears developing in them.

Peter didn't know what that was. One second, he was feeling incredibly guilty and sick, and now he feels good. Like it felt _good_ to kill that agent. Like he _deserved_ to die. He still couldn't move though. Peter was having too much trouble figuring him-self out and the shock from killing a man that he didn't he notice that the Avengers were yelling at him asking where he was through his comms.

The teenager subconsciously answers "Yeah, I'm fine sorry. I- uh- Karen was telling me something."

Tony gave a suspicious hum through the earpiece, but didn't question him any further.

Why Peter's world seemed morbid and dark around him?

He didn't know.

Why he felt good after killing a man?

He didn't know.

Did he care that the Avengers were telling him to come back into the fight?

Not really.

Did Peter know what that voice in his head was?

Not a _single_ clue.

But then again, he didn't care.

Why should he care?


	7. Why Live, If No One Wants You?

**Felt like writing a few chapters today since I'm bored.**

**WARNING: Suicidal thoughts, mentions of self-harm, and panic attacks are mentioned in this chapter**

* * *

_Day 4: April 31,_ 2017

Monday.

A day most people dreaded.

A day where people have to leave the safety of their home and families in order to go to work or school.

The day people hated.

But for Peter, Monday was something he **HATED** with a _burning passion_.

Peter swears that if Monday was a person, he would shoot it in the head once, stab it 2 dozen times and shoot it twice more in the stomach.

Then burn the body until it was nothing but ashes, and then collect the ashes in a jar and burn them again until they are nothing but oblivion.

**That's** how much Peter _hated_ this particular Monday.

Why did he hate _this_ Monday though?

Because it was his first Monday back from the long (agonizing) 4-day weekend. Which means he has to deal with bullies, homework, decathalon, Spider-man, the internship with Mr. Stark, and whatever mental state he's in right now. Just what he needed. A million things plopped onto his full plate at once. How he's going to deal with it all? He doesn't know.

Peter doesn't want to ask May or Mr. Stark to help because if he told them that he had 'depression' or whatever, they would CONSTANTLY ask him if he was okay and they would make him go to a therapist or something. And he also doesn't want to be their problem. Their burden that they always have to take care of. Peter was old enough to take care of himself, he didn't need 2 adults worrying about him. Peter knew that Mr. Stark had better things to do other than sit around and take care of a 15 year old. And May was taking care of enough already. Her working 2 jobs and trying to keep them both sustained, as well as the house bills and Peter's school. He couldn't ask anymore from her.

He wasn't worth their time or money. Why doesn't he just put an end to his already horrible life? Mr. Stark and May would at least be burden-free. May would be relieved of the kid that was dropped on her and Ben's laps. God, Uncle Ben. It was Peter's fault he died. He could've stopped the thief. But he was too cocky and foolish to realize the danger. And Mr. Stark is too busy to be endlessly worrying about Peter doing something he isn't supposed to do or Peter's well-being.

Peter sat in his bed thinking for who knows how long. Just staring at the ceiling while laying on his back, basically just questioning his purpose in life and why he even exists. He should probably get ready for school now.

The sleepy teenager groggily got out of his warm bed and shuffled his way to the kitchen. Peter wasn't really hungry which was a first, so he decided that a banana and a glass of water would be enough to fill him.

As Peter reached the fruit bowl, he extended his arm to grab a banana and then he glanced down at the cuts on his forearm. The ones he gave himself. A smile tugged at the edges of his lips at he took his index finger on his right hand and traced the long cuts on his left arm. They were all fully healed, the only reminder that they were there was the slight discoloration of them. The cuts were a little shinier and paler than his actual skin tone, but they weren't too noticeable if you don't look too closely. But really, who would just grab his arm and take a close look at it just to see if he was cutting himself?

Peter snapped out of his daze and snatched a banana from the bowl, he walked over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, dragging his feet over to the refrigerator and pouring himself some water.

He quickly drank the water and ate his banana once he saw what time it was. 7:15 a.m. _Oh crap_. He's gonna be in so much trouble.

After putting his glass in the sink and throwing the banana peal away in the garbage, he ran to his room and started rummaging for a clean pair of clothes. _Gosh, he needed to do laundry soon or else he wouldn't have anything to wear other than his boxers. And that would be embarrassing.__ Extremely. Embarrassing._

Once he found a clean pair of jeans and a decent flannel to wear over his t-shirt, Peter hastily stripped down to only his boxers and pulled his clothes on. Not even bothering to put his pajama's in the hamper.

After throwing his text books and notebook in his back pack, fixing his unruly hair and tying his sneakers on his feet, he was out the door and heading to the train station he usually took to school.

Shoving his headphones in his ears and unpausing his music to drown out the overwhelming sounds of New York City, Peter Parker was now on his way to the worst day of his life. Well, one of them anyway.

* * *

Peter was now on the train heading to his school, he was bored out of his mind and decided to go on his broken phone for a bit. He dug through his pocket and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and read the message May left him.

_Sorry I had to leave early, I have a morning shift and a night shift today so I won't see you until tomorrow morning, don't wait up for me - May_

Peter frowned at this, why did she care about him anyways. He was just a burden. She's never around anyway. Maybe he should end the misery she feels in her life daily by not being in the picture. He's sure she wouldn't miss him. She'd finally be free. She wouldn't have an extra mouth to feed and she wouldn't need an extra job.

Maybe he should just die.

Just end it all, his pain, his guilt, his _life_.

He's not worth it.

He's just a waste of a person who could've been better.

Peter walked off the train once the doors opened after it came to a complete stop. The sky was gloomy just like the day before, another storm is rolling in. It's like the sky feels Peter's pain. Because everyday he's been like this. Guilty and sad. There has always been a storm.

The teen's head hung low and he speed walked to get inside his school, Ned was probably worrying about him since he hadn't texted him all weekend. Or maybe, Ned was just texting him to make sure that Spider-man was okay. **NOT** Peter Parker. Because that's all Ned really talked about ever since he found out that Peter had a double-life as a superhero-vigilante. Ned never asked about _PETER, _he always asked about Spider-man. Ned even said to Peter once that 'No one wanted _Peter Parker.'_

It was true, nobody wanted Peter. They only wanted Spider-man.

Peter walked up the cement stairs leading to the doors of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

Ned and MJ was there waiting for him. He'd been 10 minutes late to first period and if he didn't get to class soon, he would be spending his evening in detention.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Got held up." Peter lied, trying to hide the sadness in his voice that he held up his 'friends' when they could be in class already, not waiting for him.

"Yeah okay loser, we'll let it slide this time. Now hurry up we're already late." Of course, MJ was always right. He is a loser. And a horrible friend for keeping his friends waiting, and it would be his fault if they got detention later on.

Peter couldn't help but look down at his feet as he mindlessly trailed behind MJ and Ned into class.

"Well well, look who decided to show up. I hope you have a valid excuse after class Ms. Jones, Mr. Leeds and Mr. Parker." Ms. Warren deadpans. Peter can hear Flash snicker in the corner of the classroom.

"Sorry Ms. Warren." Peter said, not even sparring a glance as he makes his way to his desk and sits down.

Peter's ears tuned out everything the second he sat down, now all he can hear is his thoughts. The thoughts that keep Peter up at night. The thoughts that encouraged him to start cutting himself. The thoughts that made Peter feel guilty, sad and worthless. The thoughts that made Peter feel unwanted.

And it all started with a false alarm. Peter didn't think that the guilt, pain, sadness and self-harm would go this far. He didn't think that he would be blaming himself and cutting his fore arms and thighs almost everyday. Though it hadn't even been a week yet since his change of mood. It felt like an eternity had gone by since the incident on Wednesday night.

Peter could hear it. The rain hitting the glass and the thunder booming from the clouds. It sounded the same today as it did Wednesday. And that was a painful memory. One he wanted to just put into the back of his head and leave it there forever. But it seems that the universe is out to get him today.

He felt trapped in his own mind, like the walls of the classroom were closing in. Like all of a sudden Peter's world went from muffled noises to everything clear as a crystal. It was too much. Peter tried to slow his breathing, but it wasn't working.

"Dude, are you okay?" Ned whispered next to him.

Peter needed to go, _now_.

He raised his hand in hopes to grasp his teachers attention.

"Yes, Mr. Parker?"

"May I g-go to the restroom, please."

"Yes, you may. Make it quick though." Ms. Warren warned as Peter quickly got up from his seat and swiftly walked out of the classroom.

Once he was out of the class and sure no one was in the hallways, Peter sprinted towards the closest Men's bathroom he could find.

He pushed the door open and went into the biggest stall, swiftly checking under the stalls before putting his back to the wall and sliding down until he was sitting. Head in hands and his elbows resting on his elevated knees.

He takes in shaky, uneven breathes as he tries to calm himself, but to no avail.

_Why do you even try wimp? _

_You're worthless._

_Hopeless._

_Just a depressed, guilty, good-for-nothing, stupid, orphan that can't get his life straight._

_Why don't you just **DIE** already?!_

_No one is stopping you because no one cares about you._

_They'll be **HAPPY** without you there._

_Mr. Stark, May, Happy, MJ, Ned._

_They'll all be happy you're gone._

_So why continue living..._

_When you're not wanted by anyone?_

For once, his thoughts were right.

Everyone would be happier if he were DEAD.

He's just a burden.

A pest that isn't worth anyone's time.

A lonely child that doesn't know when he isn't wanted.

An orphan who has no one.

So, why continue, if no one loves you?

* * *

**Hey guys! hope you enjoyed this angsty chapter. I just LOVE toturing Peter and making him depressed and anxious.**

**I'm suffering from a cold and I'm feeling a little depressed so I decided to let it all out on this chapter, sorry.**


	8. A Plan (A short chapter)

**Sorry I fell off the face of the Earth for so long. Anyway, I'm back and that's what matters. Short chapter so that I can try and slowly get back into the swing of things**

**oh yeah, let me explain.**

_**Bold Italics = Good thoughts/voice**_

_Italics = Bad thoughts/voice_

_'Single quotation mar__k+ Italics'_ = _Peter's thoughts/sound effects_

"Quotation marks" = talking

Underlined words = emphasis or exageration

* * *

_Day 5: May 1, 2017._

Peter made a plan.

A plan that he hoped worked.

He hoped it worked so that it can end his miserable, lonely life.

A plan that will take place in 17 days, on May 18.

That's the day Peter ends all the pain, and guilt, and suffering he's caused both him and the ones that he thought loved him. Like May, and Mr. Stark, MJ, Ned too..

He's giving them the life they deserve.

A better one.

A Peter-free one.

A life where he isn't a problem.

One where he isn't a burden.

One where isn't a bad friend.

One where everyone who doesn't care about Peter Parker gets their wish.

He had it all laid out. He even put a reminder on his phone. Not that he'd need it. Peter's pretty sure he would remember.

**_Why would you try though? You're just gonna end up failing. Plus, _**_**the people of New York, if not just a few, still need you for something. Why take away their hope from**_** _them? _**

Peter ignored this voice and continued with his day.


	9. (Hiatus and stay safe) Please read 1

All of my stories, except for a few one shot and side stories ill be posting later on, are going on a rather lengthy hiatus for a few reasons.

Reason 1: I'm a major procrastinator and can't get anything done, plus I forget to do things a lot and just get lazy.

Reason 2: Me and my family is super busy trying to deal with this whole Corona Virus pandemic and to make sure we are all healthy and sanitized.

Reason 3:I've been busy with school still, since I'm homeschooled, and family events recently and just haven't found the time or energy to write much. Heck, this note took me until 12:00 am to finish because that was the only time I had any free time.

So yes, quite a few reasons for me to go on a hiatus. However I may post a few one-shots here and there just because.

Should I do a BNHA one-shot book just to pass the time and keep you guys busy during this whole 'COVID-19' thing. And I need things to do and I have a lot of one shot Ideas, I just haven't written them yet so please let me know your thoughts.

Thanks for understanding this major inconvenience and thank you all so much for being patient.

P.s, please stay safe and sanitized during this outbreak!


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